Breaking and Entering
by Darthanne
Summary: Breaking into a house is easy in comparison to finding entrance through the door to friendship and more. xover with Stargate SG1


Breaking and Entering (1/1)

by Anne

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG – angst, friendship. Highlander/Stargate SG1 xover.

Summary: Breaking into a house is easy in comparison to finding entrance through the door to friendship and more.

Archive: http/dryerspace. Stargate SG1 are owned by Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Products. Highlander is the property of Panzer/Davis, Rysher/Gaumount Television.

I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Author's notes: This ficlet is part of the 'Tears in Heaven' arc. Written for Hex for the recent LJ drabble request meme. She wanted Methos. Methos wanted Sam Carter.

Comments to: anne fanworkrecs.

Sam entered the house, stopping to remove her jacket. She stopped, sniffing the air. Coffee?

Reaching for her gun, she cautiously approached the kitchen. Whoever had broken in had a nerve helping his or herself to her coffee.

"Freeze!" she yelled, aiming her weapon at the intruder.

He turned towards her, answering with a shrug and a polite tone, and making no move to raise his hands in surrender. "I made you coffee." Methos leaned back against the counter, stretching out like a cat. "You're late," he said.

Sam stared at him, then lowered her gun. "You broke into my house," she pointed out.

"I didn't have a key," Methos replied, handing her a cup of steaming coffee.

/Hold up a minute/ Sam though. /How the hell did he know I'm late/ "You've been watching me?" It was a statement, not a question.

"I wanted to talk to you." Methos said, typically not answering the question.

"Why?" Sam took the coffee and gestured towards the sofa in the other room. It would be more comfortable there. If Methos wanted to talk, she wasn't going to discourage him.

"Because…" Methos faltered. He seemed nervous, something she had never seen before. Methos wasn't known for sharing; information tended to have to be dragged out of him piece by piece, and even then usually not completely.

Placing her cup on the table, Sam laid a hand on his arm. He didn't remove it. "Kevin said that they haven't seen you in a while," she said, offering him an opening.

"I've been away," he said, sounding distant.

"Business?" Sam asked gently.

"No." Methos took another sip of coffee.

"Pleasure then?"

"No." Methos sighed, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the side of his cup.

"I thought you wanted to talk to me," Sam tried again.

"I did." Methos shrugged.

"And now you don't?" Sam realised that her hand was still on his arm, and removed it.

"Did I say that?" Methos shook his head. "I'm not making this easy, I know."

"Ya think?" Sam rose to her feet. "Do you want more coffee?" If Methos was going to make conversation that was fine, if he wasn't… It had been a long day and she needed to get into the SGC early the next morning. While she admitted to liking the guy, he could be so damn frustrating.

Methos stared at his cup, but Sam doubted that was what he was actually looking at. "No more coffee," he said. "I won't be sleeping anyway." His tone was matter of fact, yet there was a sadness in it.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" Sam stayed where she was, cup in hand, coffee forgotten.

"That would depends on your definition of wrong now wouldn't it?"

"What's /your/ definition of wrong, Adam?" she asked, using the name the immortal had asked them to use when they had first met. There were less chance of mistakes that way, of his true identity being discovered.

He looked at her, something reflecting in his eyes that she couldn't define. "She called me that," he said, almost to himself. "I never told her who or what I was. How could I?" He stood. "I'm sorry, it was a mistake to come here."

"She?" Sam asked, curiosity getting the better of good judgement.

"Alexa." There was a long pause. Methos studied the floor before looking up to meet Sam's concerned gaze. "My wife."

"Your wife?" Same thought she hid her reaction well.

"Thank you for the coffee." Methos' words were short and clipped. He put down the cup.

"I didn't make it. You broke into my house and…"

"Your security needs improving." Methos walked into the kitchen and collected his coat. Sam waited for him to put it on, but instead he draped it over his arm. She wondered whether he was already wearing his sword, or whether it was hidden in the coat somewhere.

"So do your manners."

Methos shrugged. "Sorry," he said, not sounding it in the least.

"No, you're not." Sam decided that she'd had enough of this crap. "If you want to talk, fine, but if you don't I suggest you leave."

He froze. "Fine, I'll do that." He removed his coat from over his arm and shrugged himself into it. "Not one of my brighter ideas…"

"Methos?" Sam wasn't sure if he had meant those last words to be overheard.

"Yes?" Methos turned, one hand on the front door.

"What happened to Alexa?" Sam realised that he had spoke of her in the past tense.

"She died." Methos met her gaze. She flinched at the pain she saw, even though it was gone in an instant. "I didn't."

"It's cold outside," she said. "I have beer if you don't want coffee."

"Beer?" Methos' eyebrow raised. "It's not in your fridge."

"No, it's not." Sam bit off the comment she was tempted to make about nosy immortals rifling through her fridge. "If it had been, you wouldn't have been drinking my coffee."

He managed a smile. "Ya think?"

Sam shrugged, not sure why she was offering to give up her evening for him. She held out her hand. "One time offer. A beer with a friend. If want to talk about your wife, I can listen. If you don't, that's fine too."

"Why?" Methos stared at her hand.

"Do I need a reason?"

He smiled and took her hand. "Maybe not," he said. His hand was cool against hers and she shivered, pulling away.

"Wait here," she said. The beer was in a small fridge in the garage.

When she returned, he was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. "Alexa would have liked you," he said.

"Tell me about her," Sam said, handing him on of the bottles, and opening the other for herself.

And he did.

Fin


End file.
